


he wears his heart on his sleeve (and just wants a place to call home)

by miss_universe



Series: Writer's Month 2019 [13]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Study, F/M, POV Jaime Lannister, Past Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2020-08-23 07:44:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20239228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miss_universe/pseuds/miss_universe
Summary: Jaime was a man who felt very deeply, that was one thing that could never be denied by anyone. And he felt very deeply for a number of people.Writer's Month 2019 Prompt: Day Thirteen - Feelings





	he wears his heart on his sleeve (and just wants a place to call home)

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt fill for Writer's Month 2019.  
Day thirteen: Feelings

Jaime was a man who felt very deeply, that was one thing that could never be denied by anyone. And he felt very deeply for a number of people.

**1\. Awe.**

Arthur Dayne was everything that a knight should be, at least in Jaime Lannister’s eyes. He beat the Smiling Knight in a fierce battle, exemplifying everything he ever thought about honor. _ I want to be like you. _He thought. 

**2\. Terror. **

Aerys Targaryen was one of Jaime’s nightmares come to life. He dreaded being on duty everyday, wishing that he had said no to the promotion of Kingsguard. He never could get the smell of burning flesh out of his nose no matter how hard he tried, and he did try. The kitchen maids had taken to giving him freshly peeled orange skins before he would retire to bed, which was the only thing that could help him sleep without waking up gagging in the middle of the night. The screams he heard everyday might’ve been as bad as the smell, or perhaps they were worse. He didn’t know. Rhaella’s screams were horrible as well, and they continued to ring in his ears for days. He finally mastered the ability to be there but not present, which he called _ going away inside. _It was the only thing that could stop his heart from beating out of his chest in terror. He was able to endure, up until Aerys said, “Burn them all.” Then he couldn’t.

**3\. Envy.**

Ned Stark. _ Honorable and just, _ Jaime sneered to himself, looking into the mirror and seeing his own green eyes staring back at him. He had dark circles underneath them, bags beginning to show his lack of restful sleep. _ Truthful to a fault. But what would you do if I did tell you the truth, I wonder? That Queen Rhaella is much happier in death, or that Aerys Targaryen was ready to murder thousands of innocent men, women and children with wildfire, forever staining the streets of King’s Landing? Would they call me Jaime the Honorable if I told them of how he had groped a servants breasts, and then lit her ablaze when it was not pleasing in his hand? Would they call me Jaime the Just if they found out that I murdered one man to save thousands, perhaps millions? Would I get riches and rewards, a place at the King’s table, a sweet wife to come home to, children I could raise, just like you, Ned Stark? _He got no answers from his reflection, and suddenly could not stand the sight of himself anymore, swiftly turning away from the looking glass.

**4\. Lust.**

“You’ll never leave me,” Cersei panted hotly into his mouth, her lips curved into a smug smile, red with the stain of wine and swollen from kissing. Her long nails scratched at his back, feeling his muscles tensing, and he was unbearably pleased by it, that she was marking him as her own. “My Jaime. Mine.” He moaned in agreement and hitched her leg up onto his hip, the new angle making her shriek in delight. “I am yours, Cersei, my Cersei. My queen.” He grunted into her ear, knowing she would like that, and she did, her cunt clenching around his cock and making him thrust once more before spending himself inside of her. He felt his eyes widen and he began to panic, he wasn’t supposed to spend inside of her, but she caught his face with her hand and kissed him again, nibbling delicately on his lip, then pushed his head down to her pink nipple and he forgot about everything except his woman. 

**5\. Hate.**

He hated Robert Baratheon with a burning passion. The fat, drunken old stag had everything he ever wanted in his hands and didn’t even appreciate them. King Robert laid with Jaime’s woman, was a father to Jaime’s children, scorned him and named him Kingslayer - as if Jaime hadn’t won the entire fucking war for him. As if he hadn’t ended the rebellion with one swing of his sword. Jaime would kill to be able to hold any of the blond babes that suckled at his sweet sister’s teats, would die to hold their tiny little hands as they tried to take their first steps, and what did Robert do with the gift he had? He threw it away, never making time for the children, calling his queen the wrong name in between the sheets. But he was already the Kingslayer, and it was both the best and worst thing he ever did, and he wouldn’t kill a king again. So he watched King Robert with hate in his eyes as the oaf lived Jaime’s life. 

**6\. Pride.**

Despite Cersei and Tywin, he loved Tyrion with everything he had inside of him. He didn’t understand the use of blaming him when his mother died - she was just gone. And Tyrion was still there. So he loved his little brother, even when Tywin ignored him and Cersei tried to persuade him to mock and belittle him. It was one of the very few things they didn’t agree on. Jaime made time for Tyrion, giving him books to read and toys to play with, dragging him out to the courtyard to watch Jaime spar. And soon it became clear that while his brother would never be a fighter, never lead men into battle, he was much more clever than either him or Cersei. Jaime had bragged about his brother reading through an entire book in one day once at dinner, and Cersei had shot him such a disgusted look that he felt the briefest flash of anger, then felt horrible about it. Tywin gave him a glare and asked why Jaime wasn’t doing the same. So Jaime kept his pride for his brother tucked close to his heart, and whispered it only into his ears.

**7\. Worry.**

Tommen was a sweet boy. Too sweet to be a king. His sweet sister was growing into something he didn’t recognize, but that wasn’t so surprising, because they weren’t mirror images now, and she ruled Tommen with an iron fist. From the little time he spent with his son, he could see that the boy only cared about his cats. If he could speak to him, he would tell him to read every paper he signed thoroughly, to make powerful allies and to be an independent thinker. But he could not speak to him, so he said nothing. He remembered how Joffrey died. Kings, no matter how malicious or kind, never lived very long. 

**8\. Grief.**

His daughter was dead. His daughter called him father in a sweet voice and then died in his arms, her Lannister golden hair flowing in gentle waves as she collapsed. _ This is my punishment. _ He thought, _ for loving the wrong woman and letting her rule me. _ He had loved a woman who only loved power, had sired three children with her and watched two of them die, unable to stop it, all because their family played with something dangerous. It was nothing less than what he deserved, but Myrcella did not deserve it. She was witty and observant and she called him _ father _ even though he was nothing of the sort to her. _ I should’ve taken them and ran to Essos, where it would be them and me and no one would bother us, they would never play the game of thrones and they never would’ve gotten hurt. I should’ve had them with another woman, one who didn’t care for politics and would’ve just been happy with being a family. _He thought of blue eyes.

**9\. Happiness.**

Being Brienne of Tarth’s husband was the happiest he had ever been. Jon Snow and his wife Daenerys sat on the throne with Tyrion as their hand, and Sansa Stark ruled in the North. The game of thrones had been ended with Targaryens, just like how it began. Jaime couldn’t bring himself to care. He lived on Tarth with his wonderful wife, who smiled crookedly at him everyday as if in awe he was still there. They kissed in the open, they sparred together everyday, and the people called him _ The Lion of Tarth. _ He lived with the woman he loved and was able to prove his love for her everyday and it was everything he had ever wanted. He was happy, not in pieces, but as a whole, he loved a good woman and she gave him a home, she gave him her trust and her life and her heart, and everyday was bliss.

**10\. Joy.**

He was on edge for what seemed like days before the midwife finally stepped out of the room, beaming at him. “You can come in now, Ser.” She said, and he rushed inside the room before she even finished her sentence, going to Brienne’s side where he should always be. She was red faced and gleaming with sweat, panting, and she had never looked so beautiful. Then she smiled at him with her crooked teeth and bright blue eyes and he was stunned, cupping her cheek and kissing her gently. His heart ached with how much he adored her. “Husband,” she said against his lips, grinning, “We have a son, Galladon Lannister of Tarth.” And she nodded down to the bundle in her arms and he cried, touching his son with care. His son. His wife and son. Tears were streaming down his face but he didn’t care, he didn’t, because he had his wife and son and everything was right in the world. He had a family he could call his own and love freely, and it was all he had ever wanted.

**Author's Note:**

> please leave a kudos/comment if you enjoyed!


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